


If Someday The Moon Calls You

by argylemikewheeler



Category: The Goldfinch (2019), The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love, boris is not literally present but we all know that man is in theo's heart at all times, one way conversation, supreme longing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24792334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/argylemikewheeler/pseuds/argylemikewheeler
Summary: Years after leaving Las Vegas, Theo's only companion is the moon. He speaks to it as if it was Boris, his lost badr al-dine.(inspired by the Shahrazad al-Khalij quote: "If someday the moon calls you by your name don’t be surprised,because every night I tell her about you.”
Relationships: Theodore Decker/Boris Pavlikovsky
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	If Someday The Moon Calls You

It wasn’t a ritual, Theo told himself, so it wasn’t weird. It wasn’t obsessive or anything _perverse_ like that. Theo just didn’t have anyone else to talk to on the long days that outlasted Theo’s patience, then left him in an anxious solitude while Hobie turned in early-- and Kitsey was out with her roommate. Instead of picking up the phone and attempting to reconcile the reality that there was no number for Theo to punch in, he just opened his bedroom window and sat along the ledge.

He lit a cigarette and kicked off his shoes, opening a beer for himself and then another for the other side of the window. For the other side of the conversation.

“Hey, Boris.” Theo said, cupping his lighter’s flame. “Work _sucked_ today. Not as bad as last week but still fucking terrible-- I’ve got this fucking _asshole_ after me over a goddamn _armoire_. Listen man, it’s not my fault you fucking spent your retirement on a place to put your moth-eaten suit jackets. That’s on _you_.”

Theo coughed on his first inhale, laughing for himself. For them both.

“I’m sure it’ll all blow over soon. It’s a hassle more than anything. It’s so hard to get anything done when he’s always calling me in the shop-- Oh! Speaking of the shop-- you’ll get a kick out of this, Boris.”

The moon was full that night. All the stars accounted for, present and listening.

“This Polish couple came in today looking at some chairs. Kind of sweet, right? Old and married for _probably_ their entire lives.” Theo wasn’t sure when he found such a thing endearing. When he was talking to anyone else, the thought terrified him. “And they’re speaking to each other in Polish, of course. And _fuck_ if I remember anything you taught me now. I missed all of their sentences and what they were actually looking for-- they never told me! It’s not entirely my fault as a shit salesman-- but I did catch what this lady called her husband. It was, uh, it was that cookie thing you kept telling me about when we were cross faded and 'stuck' in your blankets for six hours... Fuck, uh, _chrusciki_. Is that how you say it?”

Theo paused, trying to remember the woman’s voice. It only came back to him as a very energetic and hungry teenage boy.

Theo took a long swig of his beer, not fully exhaling his cigarette drag. His chest itched, but he kept swallowing and pretending it was simply heartburn.

“And, well, semi-related to that: I had lunch with Kitsey today.” Theo paused again, biting the inside of his cheek. “The engagement party is next week. Yeah... can’t believe it either. I don’t remember asking her-- still not sure I did.”

Theo laughed and wished someone else would too. It _was_ a joke. The world could laugh-- it _was_ funny. Only Theo could tangle himself up so badly even he forgot where the lie started.

“I miss you a lot lately."

That part had gotten both easier and more difficult to say as the months wore on. Easy because it was the only bit of truth left in Theo's life, but impossible to stomach on the days Theo knew admitting it meant nothing except squeezing an already bleeding wound.

"I mean, I miss you all the time but it’s weird, getting married that is. It isn’t until I see Kitsey getting all her girlfriends together for drinks and game nights and shopping days that I... I start to realize that I’m lonely. That what I feel every day is just... _loneliness_. That it’s disappointment. That I just... really miss you, Boris.”

The moon seemed perfectly aligned with the window pane. Theo shifted the other, full beer bottle to fit more evenly in the moonbeam over them.

“I hope you’re doing okay, Boris. Last time we talked, I guessed you were back in Europe-- Spain, I think I said, right? Well, I hope Barcelona was fun. That you didn’t do anything too stupid, had some really good food, and didn’t wind up in a prison where you don’t know the language.”

Theo smiled, imagining Boris-- in his fuzzy, undefined Adult Way Theo always conjured up-- wandering around during Golden Hour and waving to every person passing by. He always had a persimmon in his hand for some reason, chomping and chewing behind his smile. Theo had no idea how to correctly prepare a persimmon, but he always imagined that it was knowledge New Boris would have and use daily. Something he’d immediately share upon their reunion. 

“I’m sure you had a great time, as always. Can’t wait to hear all about it. Next week you’re going to, uh,” Theo paused. “New Zealand, right? Yeah. Have fun going back Under! I’d ask you to keep a journal or something but. We both know your handwriting is illegible; you’d end up reading it to me anyway.”

Giving Boris a continuing life was comforting-- something to picture when he tried to sleep at night, Kitsey’s arm resting over his chest and trying to still his heart-- but part of Theo knew it was too polished. Theo wasn’t giving Boris the proper life, wasn’t accounting for everything he could be doing out... _wherever_ he was. Theo never considered that talking to the moon was the equivalent of talking to a dead man.

And he never would.

“When you’re finished in New Zealand, if you want to be still for a little, um, I always have room here.” Theo inhaled sharply through his nose-- nearly sniffling. “Popper would love to see you... Me too. Maybe you could talk me out of this mess. Fuck, if Platt or Kitsey or even Ms. Barbour met you they might just call the whole thing off. Name you as my best man and watch them all start _freaking_ out.”

Theo couldn’t laugh. He was too close to crying.

“The wedding’s going to be open bar. You should come. It’s next year, early spring. I already saved you, you know, saved you a seat at one of the tables. Tried to get you as close to the bar as possible-- without being too obvious of course. I know you like to have a little discretion and class. I plan on having neither of those things, let me tell you. God, Kitsey is going to hate me for it but: What can I do? I’m getting _married._ ”

 _To a woman_ hung at the edge of Theo’s tongue, being pulled back in as he took another drag from his cigarette. He could hear Boris placating his cyclical panic in the rustling of the trees and quiet breeze: _Is not big deal, Potter. Are two boys, yes but-- Potter, would you shut up! Is not bad thing. Keep to self and I keep to mine. All fine. No girlfriends, very normal-- yes?_

Even in having a girlfriend, Theo still hadn’t found that particular _normal_. He only felt it loitering behind him.

“I wonder if you meant all that back then.” Theo put his half-empty beer in front of Boris’s, as if the bottles could stare at each other. “You never let me feel used, you know that? Sure, we were doing weird shit together, but it always had a rationale. It was fine because we didn’t have any girls around, we were happy drunk, I’d had a bad day and you knew how much I liked sleeping close to you-- it was always explainable... It was always okay. I mean, it _wasn’t._ We were fooling around which, _obviously_ , is the wrong idea about us both but--”

The wind stopped and the night hushed for Theo. It leaned back and let the moon lean in to listen more closely. He looked up to meet its gaze.

“Why is it when I don’t need an excuse or explanation to be with someone that I feel the most used?” The answer was obvious in the silence-- the absence _of_ the answer. “What am I supposed to do, Boris? I don’t think I ever planned this far.”

Everything was just a plan of waiting; waiting until Boris turned up in New York so the rest of Theo’s life could pick up where it had splintered. But the waiting turned into irreversible actions when Theo was at his most destructive.

“This is what I get, right? Running away to be a New Yorker again when I so obviously was a far better Vegas burnout. I mean, I learned from the best after all.”

God, Theo hoped Boris was as far away from that desert as possible. Had a house and a steady income and someone who listened to all his ranting and raving-- and sometimes even put up with it.

Although, sometimes, the thought of Boris being with anyone else made Theo sick. He at least knew his on-coming marriage was a sham. Boris didn’t know how to love people dishonestly; if Boris was with anyone, it was because he had opened his heart and life to them. Just the way he had to Theo-- before he turned around and shut Boris out.

Theo picked up his beer again, nearly finishing the rest of it in one gulp. If Theo had planned better-- at least in this area of his life-- it would’ve been something stronger. He wouldn’t have been speaking in complete sentences anymore. His slurred incoherence would’ve lent itself to a near-livable dream where Theo was no longer talking to himself; he could’ve been staring at the moon and pretending it wasn’t just another light over a bustling city, but instead the same one that hovered over the blankets of sands that tried to soak Theo up when he was too young to know that heat wasn’t always warmth.

“I think I’m going to turn in soon, Boris, I... I think I need to lay down.” The window was going to remain open, beer still on the ledge. “As always I really... _really_ wish you were here.”

Theo placed his feet back on the floor.

“Please be alive. And please come back to me. Soon as you can, okay?”

The muted brightness of the moon remained unwavering, and low, distant rumbling held off on any clouds. The sky was clear, the stillness breathing through the silent pause.

“Okay. Good night, Boris.” Theo stubbed his cigarette out at the feet of the full beer bottle. The condensation surrounding it caused the cigarette butt to hiss as it extinguished. “Stay safe.”

Well, and of course:

_“I love you.”_

**Author's Note:**

> [[my tumblr, specifically to continue being emotional about tgf]](https://weltonreject.tumblr.com/)


End file.
